Zara pulled open his closet door and peered inside. “What are these?”
Jay shut down his computer and crossed the room to see what had caught her attention.
“Company uniform. Elias and I used to work every event, but after we expanded nationally, we hired a local team so we could focus on running the business.”
“You get plus marks for that.” Zara smiled. “Women love a man in uniform.”
Did she love a man in uniform? The question sneaked into his brain like the paparazzi sneaked into the celebrity events J-Tech was hired to protect.
“Do you still have your uniform from when you were in service?” She closed the door and made another note on her clipboard. “I asked around about you at the wedding. Eight years in the air force. Multiple combat deployments in Iraq and Afghanistan. Decorated combat search-and-rescue pilot and—”
He could almost feel a steel door slam down in his mind. “That part of my life is over and not on the table for discussion.”
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” Her smile faded, and he immediately regretted his abrupt tone.
“Where would you like to go?” He straightened his tie and stepped away from her soft, agile body and her seductive floral scent.
“I don’t like to make plans.” Her smile returned, beating back the gray clouds that had rolled in when she’d brought up his past. “Let’s see where the wind takes us, so long as it takes us to food.”
* * *
• • •
“I don’t usually eat at this time.” Jay unwrapped his hot dog and settled on the grass beside Zara on the lawn in Yerba Buena Gardens. “I have also never come to this park and I don’t usually sit on the grass.”
“You’re almost like an alien.” Zara took a small bite of her hot dog, desperately trying not to get ketchup all over her mouth. Despite his uptight demeanor, Jay had been surprisingly willing to follow her through the city streets in search of the perfect hot dog, answering her questions about his work and the celebrity parties he’d guarded—no names disclosed, of course. She’d felt safe with Jay, free to talk without having to worry about everything around her. He ushered people out of her path with a wave of his arm. His gentle hand on her back steered her around fire hydrants, dogs, strollers, and small children and pulled her to a stop at traffic lights. He was like a watchful guardian angel.
And now here he was sitting on the grass on a sunny afternoon in his expensive wool suit, eating a hot dog like he’d never tasted anything better in his life.
“Slow down there, buddy,” she teased. “You don’t know what our Earth food might do to your system.”
Jay finished his last bite and dabbed his lips with the paper napkin. “I now have the energy to continue my quest for world domination.”
Zara’s head jerked up and she gave him a steady look. “Did you just tell a joke?”
“No.” His face froze with a guilty expression. “I don’t tell jokes.”
“That sounded suspiciously like an attempt to be funny. I’ll write down that you have a nascent sense of humor but it’s hidden beneath your cold, icy exterior.”
“Very eloquent,” he said dryly.
Zara looked up and grinned. “I learned all sorts of big words in law school. How about these? Hobbies and activities. Go.”
Jay stretched his legs out in front of him. His face was softer now, his body less tense. She liked to think she’d helped him loosen up, because the more time she spent with him the more she suspected what he showed on the surface was only the tip of the Jay Dayal iceberg.
“Paintball with my business partner once or twice a month. Lifting weights at the gym. The occasional early-morning run. Squash . . .”
Zara’s pen flew over her clipboard. “Anything that does not involve physical activity? Not that I’m against physical activity. On occasion I have been known to go for a run or do a spin class at the gym. But just listening to you is exhausting.”
“On a sunny day I’ll take a pile of unread Economists and sit on my balcony with a glass of wine—”
“Stop.” She held up her hand. “I’m not writing that one down. The idea is to find you a match, not bore them to death. How about something fun?”
“That is fun.”
Zara sighed. “Normal fun.”
“I go to the San Francisco Auto Show every year,” he offered.
“Now we’re talking. I used to go to the show with my dad and older brother, Hari, until he moved to San Diego to get away from our dysfunctional family. Now I just go with my dad. We both love cars. He was horrified when I told him about a case I had the other week. I got to visit a movie set and watch a man jump out of a helicopter, set himself on fire, and then drive a car into a wall. It was amazing.”
“The case or the burning man?” He leaned back on his elbows, one foot crossed over the other. A lion in repose. If he got any more chilled, he’d probably fall asleep. Not that it would be a bad thing. Then she could check him out properly instead of shooting surreptitious glances from beneath her eyelashes. He was the most gorgeous man she’d ever met. Perfect hair. Perfect body. Perfect face. All he needed to do was smile and she wouldn’t have to find him a match; her friends would be begging her for an introduction. The thought didn’t please her the way it should have. Perhaps she needed to spend more time with him, narrow the field to ensure she found the right woman instead of making the easy choice.
“The sports car,” she said, tearing her gaze away before she started contemplating the likelihood that his perfection extended below the belt. “It was a Ford GT. It crumpled like a piece of tinfoil. I had planned to buy one when I won the lottery, but now I’ll have to go for the Lamborghini Aventador S. It’s a beast.”
He lifted a brow. “You know your cars.”
“It’s important to know your dream car, especially if you win the lottery. People like details. It’s so boring when lottery winners say they’re going to take a vacation, or buy a new car, or build their dream home. Which car? Where is the new house going to be? How many bedrooms? Where are you going on vacation? Are you going to quit your job? They always say no but invariably they do.”
She was talking too much. She had a tendency to run on when she was nervous, and Jay lying in the sun, jacket and tie off, made her feel uncharacteristically self-conscious. Usually she didn’t care if there was a dab of lipstick on her cheek or if she overshared personal information, but he was so calm and in control, so solid and stable, she didn’t want him to see the hot mess she usually was. “Would you quit your job if you won the lottery?” she asked to turn the focus of the conversation back on him.